Even when Maran was in the midst of a very crucial, fateful
battle, waging a holy war in which many heavyweight issues of
Torah hung in the balance, he fulfilled the dictum of Chazal,
"Let justice cleave the mountain." And when there was even a
remote chance of violating even one paragraph in the
Shulchan Oruch, he would call a halt to the entire
campaign.

Maran would tell the following story and noted that it taught
that if one was on guard and very heedful for the honor of
Shabbos, even for a remote chance of a small infraction that
one need not even have anticipated, Hashem would see to it
that he would not lose out but, on the contrary, would
actually gain!

When elections were first held for the official Vaad
Hakehillah, the community trustee committee, in Brisk, Maran
asked those loyal to him to establish a chareidi list which
would compete against the lists of the Zionists and the
Mizrachi. This was in 5688 (1928), when the Polish government
required all congregations by law to establish a
representative administrative body. The Zionists, headed by
Yitzchok Greenbaum, took advantage of the opportunity and
launched a campaign under the motto: "Capturing the
Kehillas."

Their list was established and the election race on. Maran
decided that it was necessary to expose to the general public
the whole truth about the Zionists and the Mizrachi. With his
guidance, a public letter was prepared which enumerated,
point by point, all of the sins and failings of the
candidates on the Zionist list.

The public poster was prepared in a printshop that belonged
to a man close to the Zionist leadership. Of course, he
revealed the move, as well as the acerbic contents of this
poster, to the opposition — which was terrified. They
feared that it would be their downfall. As a countermeasure,
they prepared their own poster, which was a personal, very
vicious attack against Maran.

Maran did not know that the contents of his poster had been
revealed to the enemy or even that they had prepared a
personal counterattack against him. The elections were
scheduled for Sunday, and the posters were to have been
plastered around town before Shabbos, at the last minute, to
strike a mortal blow to the enemy.

The printing was all finished on Friday, about an hour-and-a-
half before Shabbos. Maran summoned one of his followers and
said, "You have missed your chance. It is already too close
to Shabbos and I am afraid that if you go to paste up the
notices, you may come to violate the Shabbos in some way. No,
you were not efficient enough and have lost out . . ."

The people involved argued that this was the last chance
before elections. If they didn't act now, there would be no
point in it afterwards, and they were likely to lose the
elections.

Maran was firm in his resolve and refused to allow them to
publicize the letter so close to Shabbos. They begged and he
refused. They pleaded with him, "We are your loyalists. We
will do everything exactly as you instruct and not, G-d
forbid, risk even the slightest chance of chillul
Shabbos."

But Maran would not budge from his decision, saying that even
though so much stood in the balance still, the thought of a
remote chance of chillul Shabbos was not worth the
gain. "I know how cautious you would be [in your work], but I
cannot allow it. It is forbidden."

He did not suffice with that. He ordered all the placards to
be brought to his house, fearing that his confidants might
not be able to withstand the temptation and would plaster the
signs, against his ruling. And so, they were all brought to
him.

In the Zionist camp, they believed that the chareidim still
intended to post their signs right before Shabbos in order to
surprise them and prevent them from posting their own
counterattack. It never dawned on them that they would not
put up the signs that they had prepared. And so the Zionists
proceeded to put up their own signs right before Shabbos.

On motzei Shabbos Maran called his followers and told
them that they could now distribute their signs. As it turned
out, after the rivals' posters had been exposed all Shabbos,
these signs now served as a defense, rather than an offense,
and they carried much more clout. They provided an answer to
a very sharp and personal attack against Maran, and a
justified one, it seemed. And as a defensive counterattack,
it seemed relatively milder by contrast.

Maran's expose opened the eyes of many a potential voter. It
showed the true nature of the Zionist candidates. To begin
with, the Zionist assault roused much opposition for it was a
spontaneous, apparently uncalled-for attack on the
universally respected rov. These two facts combined to turn
the public's favor towards Maran.

The chareidi list won a majority of eight seats, as opposed
to the mere three seats of the Zionists and Mizrachi. Thus
did the chareidim gain control of the Jewish community vis-a-
vis the government, and all because Maran had not wanted to
risk even the slightest chance of chillul Shabbos.

*

Maran was once asked by an American rabbi where he had found
in the Torah a prohibition against National Service for Women
(Sheirut Leumi). He replied, "You may not find such a
law in the Shulchan Oruch or in the Be'er
Heiteiv. But you will find it in the Aseres
Hadibros" (heard from HaRav Moshe Dovid Soloveitchik
shlita).

With Regard to Pikuach Nefesh, One Must Rule
Without Hesitation

Maran was known as one who feared to make definitive halachic
decisions; he was ever reluctant to voice any resolution in
halachic matters. But there was one area in which he ruled
without any hesitation — regarding matters involving
life preservation. Maran used to say, "In questions of
pikuach nefesh, the Admor, Rabbon shel kol
Yisroel, ruled that one must made decisions without any
hesitation, fear or reservations . . . At the very time that
he shunned any question involving money and would not say a
word either way, when it came to lives he did not vacillate,
and issued a very clear, decisive ruling."

Maran was once concerned about a certain Torah scholar who
was not in good health. He feared the man would insist on
fasting on Tisha B'Av, and sent one of his sons to tell him,
in his own name, that he forbade him to fast because of his
poor health. The scholar ignored the ruling and insisted that
he would fast. No message was effective in making him change
his resolve.

In the end Maran sent another warning, noting that even if he
fasted on Tisha B'Av, he would not be fulfilling the
requirement of fasting, since he was halachically absolved,
and it would be regarded, instead, as a voluntary fast, a
taanis nedovoh. If so, he proceeded to argue, why fast
a voluntary fast in the long days of Av when one could
postpone it to the shorter days of Teves?

After he heard Maran's cogent argument, which highlighted the
ineffectiveness of his stubbornness, aside from the danger to
his health, he finally accepted the ruling and refrained from
fasting that Tisha B'Av.

And another story: Maran sent a message to the administrator
of an senior citizens' home, ordering that he cook fresh food
on Yom Kippur for the residents. The administrator was a
simplistic, honest Hungarian Jew who sent back the message
that in that area, he refused to accept any ruling from any
rabbi whatsoever, except the gaavad of Pressburg,
HaRav Akiva Sofer (zt'l). When he turned to the rov of
Pressburg, the latter replied, "You must obey the rov of
Brisk in every matter, for the halochoh abides by him
in every instance!"

You Shall Not Abuse any Orphan or Widow

The following fact was quoted in Nichochoh Shel Torah
in the name of Rosh Yeshivas Beer Yaakov, HaRav Chizkiyohu
Moshe Shmuel Shapira shlita, may Hashem send him a
refu'oh shleimoh.

A question once arose in the yeshiva regarding the dismissal
of a widow who was an employee and who demanded an
astronomical sum for severance pay. Since this claim involved
a widow, I brought the question before the Brisker Rov to
receive his clear-cut decision.

Upon hearing the question, Maran opened up the Rambam to
Hilchos Dei'os and read: "One must be extremely
cautious regarding orphans and widows because their souls are
very depressed and their spirit is very downtrodden, as it
says, `An orphan and widow you shall not maltreat.' How must
one treat them? By only speaking to them gently and dealing
with them with utmost respect."

The Rambam did not suffice with quoting this prohibition from
the Torah. It is not enough that one refrain from abusing
them when one is confronted with the opportunity, when it
comes to a positive act. He adds that this command includes
preemptive special conduct with regard to these unfortunates,
and goes into how one must deal with them, at length and in
detail — by speaking gently with them and treating them
most deferentially.

The Brisker Rov suggested that they indeed pay up all that
she asked so as to avoid any question of distressing "an
orphan or widow."

Theft of Sleep

One Friday night during ma'ariv at Maran's house, the
two-year-old son of one of the mispallelim fell asleep
upon Maran's very bed. When the prayers were over, the father
wanted to wake his son up so that they could walk home [since
he would not carry him in his arms on Shabbos, even within
the eiruv] but Maran objected. "If we do not carry on
Shabbos, it does not mean that we may wake up a child and
force him to walk," he said.

"But he is liable to sleep here the whole night," noted the
father.

Maran insisted that he be left alone. "So what? Let him
sleep!"

The father was disquieted. "But he is sleeping on Maran's
very bed!"

"And what of it? I can find myself another bed to sleep
on!"

Apprehension About an Esrog

Maran went to extreme pains to secure a most perfect
esrog that did not have the slightest hint of being a
hybrid. His followers saw to it that he obtain an
esrog from a certain orchard in Morocco which was
beyond doubt, as it was supervised by trustworthy dealers all
the time.

Close to Succos of 5718 (1958), a special messenger left
Morocco with a perfect specimen for Maran. But when he
arrived at the Lod airport, the customs people detained him
and confiscated his esrog, for fear of contamination
by plant disease or insect pests. No agricultural produce was
permitted to enter the country that year. It was already
erev Succos and the messenger had no choice but to go
to Maran and break the bad news.

When he heard this, Maran turned to me and asked if there was
anything that I could do through my political connections. He
did not suffice with a simple plea but begged me and
explained at length how important this particular
esrog was to him and what a great favor I would be
doing, how happy I would make him to enable him to recite the
blessing over an esrog that was above all suspicion of
being a hybrid. He asked me to make the effort by myself, and
not to delegate the matter to anyone else. He pleaded with me
so profusely that I really felt as if this were a request of
"my life hangs upon my plea."

I promised him to try my utmost and said that I hoped that I
would be able to bring him the coveted esrog in person
before the festival.

I traveled to Lod and went to the customs clerk who had
confiscated the esrog to personally ask him to release
it. I told him who the Brisker Rov was; I explained how
important it was to him and how perturbed he was over the
fact that he did not have his esrog yet. The clerk was
understanding and would have agreed, this time, to release it
but did not have the full authority to do so.

I asked him who, then, was so authorized. He sent me to a
second clerk, who sent me on to a third one and so on down
the line. If, until then, I had not known what Israeli
bureaucracy was, I now had a perfect lesson in it.

One hour passed, and another. All the clerks exhibited good
will and, as a Member of Knesset, I was accorded all due
respect. They also appreciated my mission and the fact that I
was taking such great pains, but not one of them was able to
actually help me. It was getting late. Soon the festival
would be ushered in and I came to the realization that only
the administrator of the airport would be able to help me. I
went to look for him, but he wasn't at the airport. I called
his home and every possible place where he could be, but he
was nowhere to be found.

I kept Maran abreast of my progress as I went from clerk to
clerk through a go-between whom I periodically called, and
who had to go to Maran's house each time I reported to him by
phone. He conveyed to me Maran's great anxiety and told me
each time that Maran had urged me not to spare any effort in
obtaining that esrog. It was very crucial to him; in
fact, a question of performing the mitzvah or not.

Meanwhile, they began closing the customs offices at the
airport. When it became absolutely clear to me that the
esrog would not be released, I saw that I would have
to return to Jerusalem empty-handed.

And so I did, presenting myself at Maran's home, with only
disappointing news. I had done my utmost — and
failed.

It is difficult to describe his dismay; I could not do so
even if I were gifted with the pen. His face was literally
black with sorrow and pain.

In the end, Maran turned to me and said, "Even if I cannot
have an esrog above suspicion of being a hybrid for
Yom Tov, I would still like to have it for Chol
Hamoed, at least." And he urged me to renew my efforts,
even on erev Yom Tov and on motzei Yom Tov to
obtain it. The sooner he got it, the happier he would be, he
assured me.

And so I did renew my efforts. But again, I was not
successful.

I repeatedly tried to establish contact with the manager of
the airport, but there was no answer. He had already gone
away for the Succos vacation. I tried again on the first day
of chol hamoed, mobilizing the various clerks for the
cause, but they could not locate where he was staying.

Days passed during which, every half hour Maran would send a
messenger asking for a progress report. I replied that I had
made some progress, but that it was insignificant. I cannot
describe what turmoil of spirit, tension and pain he
experienced during this time. He was uneasy all the time and
kept on suggesting new ideas for releasing the coveted
esrog from customs' custody.

In the end, I did locate the airport manager. I don't
remember if he was in the country or abroad. I spoke to him
and asked him to issue explicit instructions to his clerks at
the airport to release the esrog. He said that he
would gladly do so, but he was not authorized to so, either.
Who could? I asked.

The Minister of Agriculture.

It was already Hoshanoh Rabboh. I began a search for Kaddish
Luz, the Minister of Agriculture, who lived in Kibbutz
Degania. When I called the kibbutz, they told me that he was
ill; only a few hours before he had been taken to the
hospital. I saw that Heaven was fighting this battle and all
the while, Maran was getting a play-by-play report.

When I learned that Mr. Luz had been taken to Hadassah
Hospital, I hurried off there. I arrived at the ward where he
was being treated and met his doctor in the doorway. He would
not allow me to enter, as I had feared.

I told him that I had a very urgent request and promised that
I wouldn't stay longer than three minutes. I asked the doctor
to ask the patient if he would agree to see me for three
minutes. The doctor did so and Mr. Luz gave his consent.

I went in and told him as succinctly as I could what was
entailed. Kaddish Luz was most impressed by the matter and
said that he would consider it an honor to fulfill this
request, but being in the hospital, he had no official
stationery from the ministry upon which to issue his orders.
Without such formal stationery, his directive would have no
validity.

I told him that I would obtain official stationery for him
within a short time. I called up the Ministry of Agriculture
in Tel Aviv and asked them, in the name of the minister, to
send me some official stationery via a messenger. After some
time, I had the paper. I went in to Kaddish Luz, who wrote
out a clear directive to immediately free the esrog
which Rabbi Lorincz was involved with.

I called up the customs office at the airport and spoke to
the clerk in charge. I told him that I had an explicit
written order from Kaddish Luz to release the esrog.
When he heard this, he said that he would wait for my special
messenger and would give him the esrog.

I was relieved and happy, and informed Maran that I had
obtained the letter and had already dispatched it via
messenger to Lod. Before long, he would have the esrog
in his very hands. When my messenger arrived at Lod, however,
he found the office closed. It was already Hoshanoh Rabboh
afternoon, and the office where the esrog was being
detained had been locked, even though the clerk I had spoken
to was awaiting my messenger.

I trembled with fear. Maran had told me that even if the
esrog arrived very shortly before Shemini Atzeres, he
would still be able to make the blessing over it, but it was
clear to me that it was a hopeless case. There was nothing
else that could be done at this point.

I couldn't help reviewing all that had taken place since the
fateful erev Succos — all of Maran's hopes that
had been dashed, time and again — and now I would have
to inform him that there was no esrog. I went to him,
all atremble and anxious. How could I break the news to
him?

I went in. But to my great surprise, he looked at me with a
smile and said, "Nu, R' Shlomo. So there is no
esrog, after all?"

"There is no esrog," I echoed.

I could not help but ask, "So why is Maran smiling?"

I enjoyed a very open manner of communication with Maran and
told him that I had trembled with fear before entering and
had not known what to say, and now, to my surprise, I saw him
in excellent spirits. Perhaps Maran had obtained another
Moroccan esrog? What could have caused the change in a
few short hours?

He replied, "Let me tell you a story, from which you will be
able to understand why I am so relaxed now. `When there is
none — one is absolved!'" he stated.

For the next three quarters of an hour, Maran told me this
story:

*

There was a baalebos in Brisk who came to me several
times, telling me about his elderly mother. "She is very
advanced in age and lives in Rogava which is some distance
from Brisk. I feel I am not fulfilling my obligation of
kibbud eim towards her. It is difficult for me to
travel to her city often because my family is here and I am
preoccupied with making a living."

"So how can I help you?" I asked him.

He said, "I want her to come and live here. I have been
begging her to do so for years but she stubbornly refuses. I
wish the Rov would speak to her. I imagine that if the
Brisker Rov told her she should move, she would obey."

I told him that he was right and suggested that the next time
she came to visit him, he should bring her to me. And that's
what happened. Some time later, he came with his mother. I
turned to her and said, "Your son wants to fulfill mitzvas
kibbud eim. It is a very important mitzvah and you are
able to help him fulfill it. He is right, in my opinion, in
asking you to move here. It will be much better for you
materially and he will benefit spiritually by fulfilling the
mitzvah as he should."

The woman replied, "Rebbe, you can ask of me what you like,
except to leave Rogava. That I will not agree to do."

"Why not?" I couldn't help asking. "What is so difficult
about living by a son who wants to care for you?'

She answered with a story of her own:

"My grandfather was a penniless pauper but he nursed a great
dream of someday buying his own esrog. Everyone in his
town was poor and very few people could afford to buy an
esrog. The entire community used to buy one
esrog which everyone would share.

"Nevertheless, my grandfather saved money all his life so
that once, when he was old, he could purchase an esrog
all for his own. He used to spare money from his own mouth,
and every penny he could save, he would put in a sack. Thus,
over several dozen years, when he was already very advanced
in age, he decided that he already had enough to buy himself
the coveted esrog. And so, he picked himself up one
day before Succos, and took his wife and his sack of coins to
Vilna to the esrog dealer.

"When they arrived, they went directly to the dealer. My
grandfather told him how he had saved penny by penny for many
years and how, gradually, he had exchanged the small coins
for bigger ones until he felt that he had enough. He laid the
sack on the table and the dealer began to count up the money.
All in all, the sum fell short of purchasing an esrog.
`I am very sorry,' he said, `but it just isn't enough.'

"My grandparents were grief-striken. When they stood outside
the shop, my grandmother said to my grandfather, `We are
already both very old. You have always wanted to buy an
esrog and if not now, then when? Listen to what I have
to say. We own a small house. Why do we need a home of our
own? Let's sell it and rent a room in town. With the money we
get for the house we can surely buy you an esrog.'

"And that is what they did. They sold their house, got
whatever price they were able to, and returned to the dealer
in Vilna. He was astounded at the large sum they now had.
`For this amount,' he explained, `you can get the most
beautiful esrog in the whole country! Next time I
travel to purchase more stock, I will personally pick out the
most beautiful esrog to be had.' Some time later, he
was true to his word, and brought back the most exquisite
specimen that could be had.

"My grandparents went to their rented room. My grandfather
sat there and studied and all the townspeople gathered to
admire his esrog which was the most perfect they had
ever seen. Indeed, everyone was curious to see it and they
all converged upon the tiny room. Grandmother took out the
esrog lovingly from its box and proudly showed it to
one and all.

"The esrog was passed from hand to hand until —
suddenly — it fell. The pitum-stem fell off,
invalidating the esrog. She fainted on the spot but
when she revived, she realized that she would have to tell
her husband. But how could she? He might have a heart attack
if he heard the news suddenly. How could she prepare him for
the shock?

"She went into the room and began telling inspiring stories
and parables. He couldn't understand what she wanted from
him. Why was she acting so strangely? `Has anything
happened?' he finally asked. `Has some misfortune taken
place? Maybe to a grandson, G-d forbid . . . '

"My grandmother had no choice but to tell him. When he heard
the news, he rose to his feet and said: `If a person doesn't
have, he is pottur.'

"According to one version, he added, `The same Ribono shel
Olom Who commanded us to take the esrog, also
forbade us to get angry.'"

The old woman concluded the tale — said Maran —
explaining why she refused to budge from Rogava:

"Every day, I pass by and see the house that my grandparents
sold in order to buy the esrog. I derive such great
pleasure from this that it veritably invigorates me. That is
why I must stay in Rogava. I cannot forego this tremendous
pleasure. So long as I live, I must stay near my
grandparents' house, the house that was sold for an
esrog."

*

"To be sure," explained Maran, "after I heard this reason, I
couldn't urge the woman to leave Rogava. So that's the story.
Do you understand the point?" he asked me.

"The lesson here is: Az menn hot nit — if one
doesn't have [an esrog], one is pottur.

"So long as I thought that there remained some chance, I
exerted every effort possible to obtain it. And as you well
know, I was in a state of constant dread, tension,
anticipation and anguish. And as much as you think you saw my
suffering, in reality, it was many times greater! But after
we did everything in our power, and I am certain that you
did, we were left with `If you don't have, you don't have to
have.' I was pottur. So why should I continue to be
aggravated over it?

"And as for your question why, after all that, I am now at
peace and even in good spirits, it is because I am now
absolved of the mitzvah."

The Brisker Rov placed great stock in this story and every
detail of its developments is indelibly engraved in my
memory. Every year, at Succos time, I tell it again to my
family so that they, too, can be impressed by Maran's
tremendous desire to perform a mitzvah without any hint of
doubt. And, incidentally, that they realize to what lengths a
Jew will go, and the sacrifices he will make, in order to
fulfill the mitzvah of esrog. Finally, I want them to
realize that after one has done whatever is in his power to
perform that mitzvah — but it is denied him, he must
make peace with the fact that, "If you don't have, you don't
have to have . . . " If one is pottur, one must regain
one's equanimity and recapture his peace of mind.

I Sleep in my Bed — And You Do the
Work

As is known, Maran was vehemently opposed to the idea of
creating a united front of all the religious parties for the
Knesset elections. He did everything in his power to foil
that attempt, seeing in it an absolute prohibition and a
grave danger to Yiddishkeit.

After it seemed that the idea was no longer relevant, several
public figures revived it and sought to established such a
joint religious coalition of parties, over his protest. This
became known to someone close to Maran, who hastened to
inform him of the scheme. He did not know, however, how to
break the news to him, knowing that it would distress him
greatly.

To his amazement, Maran received the news with complete
tranquillity. "We have done whatever we could," he said.
"Whatever Hashem does subsequently is none of our business,
as long as we have discharged our duty to satisfaction."

To support his view, Maran quoted the words of Chazal in the
Yalkut, "Dovid Hamelech requested: `Let me pursue them
[the enemy] and overtake them.' Said Hashem: `I shall do as
you ask.' Asa came and said: I don't have the strength to
kill them. I will pursue them and You do the rest.' Said
Hashem: `As you wish.' Along came Yehoshofot and said: `I
have no strength to kill, nor to pursue. I shall, instead,
recite a Song of Praise and You do Yours.' Said Hashem: `So
be it.' Along came Chizkiyohu and said: `I have neither the
strength to kill, nor to pursue, nor even to sing Your
praise. I shall sleep in my bed and You do Yours.' Said
Hashem: `So be it.'"

Dovid, who had the strength to pursue and kill his enemies,
could not absolve himself of that obligation and lie in his
bed without exerting that effort. He was duty-bound to fight
the enemy hand-to-hand. Each succeeding king was likewise
obliged to do what he was capable of doing. Chizkiyohu, who
did not even have the strength to sing praise, was absolved
of that obligation, and was permitted to rely on whatever
Hashem chose to do.

We learn from here that a person must do his utmost, exert
himself to the limit of his capacity — but beyond that,
he is absolved from doing more. He need not concern himself
with what will be. He can rest/sleep assured, and leave the
remainder up to Hashem. "You do Yours" (from Maran's son-
in-law, HaGaon R' Y.M. Feinstein zt'l)